Child of the Desert
by Meredith of Ladywinter
Summary: Alynne of Meron feels overshadowed by her beautiful and talented older sisters. She finds solace in the vast desert where she was born and in the proud tribesmen who live there.
1. Child of the Desert

**_ Child of the Desert_**

_Summary: Corralyn of Meron is a page, one of the many noble girls inspired by Keladry of Mindelan to take a stance against conformity. Her twin, Alanna Roselle, is a prodigious mage with her heart set on a black robe. Their younger sister, the quiet and pessimistic Alynne, born Giftless with little stomach for adventure, cannot help but feel overshadowed and even envious, no matter how hard she tries to repress her jealousy. These feelings of inadequacy grow as her family- and Tortallan nobility as a whole- prod her into trying to be someone like her sisters, tearing her away from the desert, the people, and the lifestyle she has come to love. In the face of such adversity, can the "child of the desert" find her own path?_

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**Chapter I**

Her ebony eyes were fixed on the endless stretch of desert before her, taking in the golden sea of sand, each grain shimmering like a star drenched in sunlight. A gentle breeze stirred orange specks into the air to weave a sultry, shimmering veil as her own red-gold hair fanned out behind her, camouflaged in the backdrop of sand. The ruby-red afternoon sun sank into the dunes as the melodious voices of the desert tribesmen sounded in the distant. The girl closed her eyes in contentment. Here she was tranquil, here she was no one but herself. Here Alynne of Meron, "child of the desert," was free.

"Alynne? Alynne!" The girl squirmed slightly, suddenly aware of the sun's rays pounding mercilessly on her neck and the beads of sweat rolling down her sunburned skin. Her hair was wind-whipped and wild now, swirling through the air like a desert sandstorm. Alynne sighed as she tried to untangle it with sandy fingers, aware that the front of her new gown, red velvet, was now splotched with sweat droplets and sand as well. She swiveled, brushing grains of it from her satin-lined bodice, to face her elder sister, Corralyn.

"What is it?" Alynne demanded with all the patience she could muster. Why did the world insist on interrupting her the moment she found tranquility? What pointless thing had come to interrupt the flow of her life this time? _If it_'_s another court function, I_'_ll **die**! _the girl thought bitterly, irritable from the heat of day as well as the tactless interruption.._ Stupid nobles with their stupid balls. If I were born a Bazhir, at least they_'_d **leave me alone!**_

The older girl hid a smile behind a graceful but callused hand, knowing fully well how much Alynne hated interruptions. "We're going to Corus tomorrow," she explained, trying to tame glossy, raven-black curls under a dusty burnoose. "Cousin Meredith is waiting for us at court."

Alynne nodded, resigned. Meredith of Ladywinter, a cousin on their father's side, was an officer of the Queen's Riders. "That's right. She's trying for her red robe between battles, hmm? Can't be easy, as she's called away every other day. Is she calling you Gifted ones over for some competition?" Despite her casual tone, her eyes flickered briefly toward the ground and her mouth twisted momentarily. If Corralyn noticed, she chose not to comment. Alynne still showed flickers of resentment for not inheriting the full Meron Gift, though she insisted she had gotten over the fact ten years ago. A moment of silence blossomed between them as Alynne drew a deep breath and sister plucked nervously at her burnoose.

Corralyn was the first to break the silence, used to the bustle of the palace as she was. "I'm not even sure if Rose will be there," she commented, meaning her twin sister, the mage Alanna Roselle. "She's nearly as busy as we pages are, and us with our training in warfare and academics. But you know her," she grinned suddenly. "She's probably wrapped up in some ancient spell or- or random arcane discovery. She flirts with noblemen and dances as much as the best of the court ladies, but when it comes right down to it, she's an academic to the core."

Grateful for the change of topic, the blonde girl shook her head, sending sandy tresses flailing in the wind. "In my opinion, anyone trying for a shield is stark-raving mad. Especially one who is university educated and started off four years late, _Corra_." She glared pointedly at her sister, half in jest but half serious. " I _still_ don't know what you were thinking when-"

"I know, I know," her sister cut her off with laugh, hazel eyes crinkled with mirth. She was long used to berating from _both_ of her sisters over that particular decision. "You think I should've stayed and gotten my robe with Alanna Roselle. But Nealan of Queenscove made the path much easier for those who start late now, and I'm much too committed to just... drop it. Why would I want to, anyway?" Her hazel eyes sparkled, reminding the younger girl of their scholarly father at his dreamiest. "Besides," she continued, grinning, "Rose is a qualified mage already. A few more years, and she'll have a black robe. I'd never catch up!"

"Whatever you say," Alynne replied calmly, imitating the airy, sophisticated sigh their mage sister was so fond of using. She made a face, dropping the elegant pretense, and swiped the back of her hand against her sweaty brow.. "Let's just go!"

And with that, the two sisters began the long walk back to Persopolis.

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_Disclaimer: Any familiar characters, settings, concepts, etc. Belong to Tamora Pierce. The plot, as well as any of the above that are unrecognizable, are mine._


	2. Self Pity

**_ Child of the Desert_**

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**Chapter II**

Alynne sat in the back of the caravan, black eyes emotionless as she watched the golden sand fade into paved road and emerald-green grass. She scanned the landscape, feeling oddly strangled as more and more buildings interrupted the flow of the desert, as if a heavy veil imprisoned her from the breath of life. Bored, the girl tapped a slender finger against her brown-wool thigh, keeping the steady rhythm of the rolling wheels. The vehicle's wooden ribs pressed against her sunburned back, and her legs were numb from being bent for so long. Alynne sighed, closing her eyes and leaning against the caravan, only to be jostled into an even more uncomfortable position. Caravan travel was not only tedious- it was painful.

The tapping continued as her fingers beat a staccato against her leg._ I_'_d as soon weave,_ the girl thought dully, comparing the past months of serenity and discovery with the times to come, if only to give herself something else to do. _They_'_ll make me dance, or- or sharpen my Sight, even though it_'_s about as weak as a loose fiber. Can_'_t do anything but detect festering lies with it! Not like Rose and Corra_'_s wonderful **Gift**!_

The tapping stopped abruptly, and Alynne allowed herself another sigh. So she had uprooted, yet again, the true cause of her depression. "Jealousy," she whispered, weighed the dreaded sound on the tip of her tongue. It was such an ugly word, and so inevitable. For her, at any rate.But then, who _wouldn_'_t_ be jealous, with two such talented, praiseworthy sisters? Alynne made a face. She wasn't being fair to herself, and she knew it. Corra and Rose had no fault in this- it was her own problem she was so susceptible to envy.

_ I only stay away from Court, from people, because I_'_m jealous, _she thought bitterly. _I'm sick of being compared with the twins, who are so beautiful and talented and intelligent and strong, according to all of them!_ The girl bit her lip, not allowing herself to continue. _There I go again, blaming my sisters! It's not their fault, it's the entire **court**! Why can't these people realize that ** they**_'_**re** the ones bound for glory, and I_'_m-_

"I'm just me," she exclaimed out loud, beating her fist against the caravan in frustration. Was that why she spent so much time among the tribesmen? Because the Bazhir, stolid and unbending though they were, accepted her for herself, without always pushing her to be a little bit better? "Well, there's nothing wrong with that..." she muttered sullenly, rubbing her temples. She was sick of her self-pity, and the rumination, combined with the trembling of the caravan, was giving her a headache.

"Alynne?" Corralyn leaped nimbly onto the caravan, cheeks flushed from exertion. Then she frowned, seeing her younger sister cradling her head, and lifted a hand instantly filled with the turquoise glow of her healing magic. "What's the matter?" she demanded, concerned. "Are you hurt?"

Alynne lifted her head out of her hands reluctantly. The sight of that hand, bright with the glow of power she would never have, was almost too much to bear now. Quickly, she shoved the thought out of her head. _No time for self-pity now._ "Hullo, Corra," she managed in a dull mutter, her eyes downcast. "No, I'm all right. Just sick of this stupid caravan."

To Alynne's relief, the magic was extinguished with a brief nod. But Corralyn knew her sister well enough to tell that she was _not_ all right, though the pain was not physical. "Oh, what is it this time?" she asked, her impatience betrayed by the roll of her hazel eyes. Alynne mirrored it with one of her own jet-black ones. She knew her stoic sister had little patience with those who stewed in self-pity without bothering to work at bettering themselves. _But she **could** show some sympathy..._

She put on a braver face for her sister's sake. "Nothing, absolutely nothing!" she snapped, the picture of annoyed nobility. She _was_ annoyed, but not for the reasons Corralyn thought. "I told you, I'm just sick of riding in this cursed thing! Are we there yet?"

Corralyn smiled knowingly, playing her part of the indulgent elder sister perfectly. She pointed toward the horizon, her slender index finger silhouetted against the setting sun. In the distance, both girls could make out a jagged edge, black against the crimson, with pointed spires and rounded domes.

"Corus."

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_Disclaimer: Any familiar characters, settings, concepts, etc. belong to Tamora Pierce. The plot, as well as any of the above that are unrecognizable, are mine._


	3. Reunions and Ruminations

**_ Child of the Desert_**

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**Chapter III**

The magnificent capital city grew larger and larger in Alynne's vision, wavering on layers of black road and green grass. Elegant spires, stout towers, and neatly scalloped roofs materialized, breaking up natural patterns of blue sky and white cloud. As they passed through the enormous city gates, wrought like black lace, and turned toward the marketplace, the grandiose buildings were replaced by tiny, shabby houses and littered streets. Alynne gasped, as if she could feel the dirtiness clogging earth and air. This vision lasted only for a moment, however, as they passed solemn, golden temples and arrived at the palace gates.

The graceful curves of metal that protected the palace were even more beautiful than the city gates, reflecting sunlight to shine in rays of pure gold. Alynne blinked; the scintillating gates were so bright that it hurt to look it at them. She studied the intricate designs and jewels that adorned them through narrowed eyes- she had seen them many times before, but it never failed to take her breath away. _ Pretty much the only thing worth seeing around her, palace or not,_ the girl thought bitterly.

Alynne disembarked with a rather undignified hop as Corralyn got off more gracefully. The smaller girl couldn't help shaking her head in exasperation- her sister even had to dismount a caravan perfectly. _Or maybe it just comes naturally to her,_ she mused. They turned toward one of the many visitors' entrances as the driver and one of the palace hostlers took the caravan and the horses.

The younger girl sighed, stepping out of the evening heat only to have her eyes bombarded by the gaudy crimson and gold leafing that adorned the entrance hall.

"Something the matter," Corralyn demanded.

"Nothing, nothing. Where are we going now?" Alynne asked demurely, resigned.

Her sister beckoned, and they headed down another elaborately decorated corridor. Alynne gritted her teeth and stared sullenly at the many lords, ladies, and servants that walked past them. Corralyn shook her head, long since used to such displays of surliness, and led her into one of the rooms currently occupied by the Queen's Riders.

"Meredith's here," she said, looking over her shoulder at Alynne.

"I kind of figured that," the younger sister replied sarcastically. She swung open the door unceremoniously, bracing her foot against it to hold it open so her sister could enter.

"Corra! 'Lynne!" suddenly, a delicate, red-robed figure rushed passed the door and grabbed both of them in a bone-crushing embrace. Corralyn laughed out loud, and Alynne smiled in spite of herself. The red-robe released them enough for Alynne to see a tumble of raven-black curls pinned elegantly above a hazel-eyed face identical to Corralyn's.

"Rose, you came!" Alynne and Corralyn shouted at once.

Alanna Roselle, Corra's twin and Alynne's older sister, twirled around gracefully and grinned. "It's me, alright!" she laughed merrily. "You're lucky that it's summer, or the Masters would have refused. Cousin Mera is here, too, and I brought some of my university friends. It's a regular ball!" She ushered her sisters into the room to where a sandy-haired, bespectacled young woman, a redheaded boy, and a dark-eyed, bronze-skinned Bazhir girl lingered.

"_There_ you are!" Meredith of Ladywinter approached them first, clad in the uniform of the Queen's Riders. Older than both Rose and Corra, she was second-in-command of the Second Rider's Group. Of medium height and with a graceful, mildly curving figure, she walked with unusual balance and athletic grace. Her face, usually scholarly and solemn but softened with the smile she bestowed upon them, was framed by sandy blonde hair. Unlike Alynne's own, however, it was dominated by earthen tones rather than fiery ones, ocean sand to Alynne's desert. Her pensive, sea-green eyes glittered behind oval lenses.

The first of Alanna Roselle's mage friends was easily recognizable from his bright hair and green-hazel eyes- Thom of Pirate's Swoop. Alynne arched her eyebrows in mild surprise. _Trust Rose to befriend the son of a legend!_ The Bazhir girl introduced herself as Parvati Ilaqi and gifted them with a hesitant smile. Alynne smiled back at both of them. _At least they seem like nice, intelligent people. Mages, but still._

"How fares your education, Child of the Desert," Parvati asked with a quiet laugh. Her face was narrow and elegant, with high cheekbones and a pointed chin. Glossy coal-black curls, sun-streaked with dark bronze, flowed to the collar of her red mage's robe.

Alynne, busy comparing her own travel-worn tunic, shirt, and breeches with the courtly elegance of the mages' clothes, blinked in surprise. "Pardon?"

"Rose told us about the tribesmens' nickname for you." That was Thom, the famous Lioness's son. "My mother is fond of the Bazhir as well. The Bloody Hawk adopted her. Is there any particular reason they call you Child of the Desert? A prophecy, or something?" His eyes, bright with intelligence, gleamed with further interest. " Ma is known as both the Woman Who Rides Like a Man and the Burning-Brightly One, and our king as the Night One. They vanquished the Ysandir. Perhaps you will do great deeds as well."

"What?" the younger girl gasped. She couldn't help but wonder if this renown mage was mad, or jesting, or both. Both mages exchanged an amused look, and Alynne placated herself. "I mean, I doubt it. They call me Child of the Desert because that's what my name means, in some foreign tongue I've never heard of." Alynne made a face.. "And I was the only Meron in this generation to be born on the fief. Not here in Corus like the twins." She sighed when her sister's friends continued to study her as if she were a new sort of spell. How could she explain it to them, this mediocrity that seemed to have chosen her at birth and tagged to her since then, the way fate or the favor of the gods tagged to others? "I- I'm not one for fulfilling prophecies or doing great things," she muttered at last.

"Maybe, maybe not. You never know," Parvati excused herself with a wink, and she and Thom left to greet Corralyn.

_ Not a single possibility,_ Alynne thought regretfully, _ I'm not meant for great things like the twins. No Gift, like the Lioness and His Majesty._ She made a face._ No future._

But at the same time, she wondered what it would be like to be a hero. And what it would take.

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_Disclaimer: Any familiar characters, settings, concepts, etc. belong to Tamora Pierce. The plot, as well as any of the above that are unrecognizable, are mine._


End file.
